Batman Inferno
by Minion and Megamind
Summary: "Around the corner is the beginning of our journey, a limbo of sorts. Within the underworld I do not possess the same power as I did Above. We are all shades here; existent yet detached from our previous roles. We will travel from the first level to the last; you will be witness to every degree of wickedness that Gotham has to offer." -By Minion
1. Intro

**Ello! Minion here! I would like to welcome you all to the fruits of my first major English project for this semester! As a result of suffering through Dante's Inferno (interesting motives but I couldn't enjoy the poem/comedy for various reasons that would be too lengthy to recount here) I decided to base my assigned task of designing _my own _inferno on the Batman universe! Yet after days of reasearch, hours of obsessing, and countless head to desk motions, I'm finally done! Throughout the story I have used various quotes from comics, movies, games, and other sources in order to attempt to create a realistic inferno although I only had experience writing as Scarecrow, Joker (The Dark Knight with hints of Arkham Aslyum), and tidbits of Batman himself-So I apologize if anyone is out of character. Oh and I couldn't help but stick Revis (my OC from my main story "Mors Et Timor") in here even anonymously.**

**Hopefully you all enjoy this journey!**

**Also I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

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**Intro:**

Symbolic creature, Bat, outside Gotham near bus-stop, introduces the theme of the night and of Batman himself.

Batman acts as Guide toward the anonymous character throughout the story.

**Limbo: Sins of Sloth**

_Robinson Park _

Poison Ivy: Corporations that threaten the environment

She punishes those who are too lazy to 'go green' in various tortures acted out by various plants according to the degree of waste each violator is responsible for.

**First Level of Gotham: Sins of Lust**

_Snow cone Hideout (Snowman?)_

Mr. Freeze: Heartbreakers

He punishes 'Heartbreakers' by freezing them in various degrees tantamount to the degree of their sin.

**Second Level of Gotham: Sins of Greed**

_Alley near Robinson Park_

Catwoman: Hoarders/stingy upper-class

She punishes the 'Upper-Class' with her whip.

_City Hall_

Harvey Dent/Two Face: Politicians/Justice System

He punishes illicit members of the justice system yet the order and punishment is left up to chance/fate the 'true deciding factor/force within life'.

**Third Level of Gotham: Sins of Gluttony**

_Gotham Sewers_

Bane: Drug Addicts

He punishes drug addicts by breaking their spines over his knee and leaving them in perpetual agony.

_Tea Shoppe: 'Mad Tea Party'_

Mad Hatter: Media Obsessed

He punishes those who are media obsessed with mind control, forcing all to live in his version of 'Wonderland' full of horrors and tortures.

**Fourth Level of Gotham: Sins of Envy**

_The Iceberg Longue_

Penguin: Gossip/Deceit

He punishes those who gossip and slander with various punishments ranging from biting the noses off of those who upturn them upon others and using a variety of 'umbrellas' to enact his punishments.

**Fifth Level of Gotham: Sins of Pride**

_High Tech Place?_

Riddler: Bad Teachers

He punishes bad teachers with confounding riddles that drive teachers into continuous agony yet provides no relief for their respective migraines and miseries.

**Sixth Level of Gotham: Sins of Wrath**

_Arkham Sewers_

Killer Croc: Murder

He punishes murderers in various methods of digestion and brutality; at times various offenders are resurrected only to be torn apart and partially devoured again and again.

_Arkham Asylum_

Dr. Crane/Scarecrow: Bullies/Abuse

He punishes those who abuse or bully others with the oppressive power of fear, reducing the tormentors to terrified, tremulous shades of their former selves.

'Crow': Assistant to Dr. Crane acts as an observer/creature symbolizing grim prospects/death throughout the story yet once Batman guides his anonymous ward to Arkham Asylum, she transforms to a human wearing crow feathers and a mask. It is implied that she assists Dr. Crane with his tortures, providing the threat and enactment of physical torture to his chemical and psychological torture. She ceases to follow Batman after this point.

**Seventh Level of Gotham: The Devil's Lair**

_Joker's Circus_

Joker: Hypocrites/Façades

He punishes hypocrites and those who put on airs proving that everyone can be pulled down to the same level and no one is apart from others. His punishments range from the comical and morbid to the horrific and repulsive. He has no conscious or moral code, there is no pattern or justification to his acts; life and its miseries are one big joke.

Harley: Assistant to Joker who ushers in Batman and his anonymous ward. She is completely loyal to Joker's cause and would gladly do anything he demands.

The last symbolic creature(s), two Hyenas named Bud and Lou after previous comedic actors, provide a mix of violence and humor which mirrors Joker's realm of chaos.


	2. Chapter 1: The Bat

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

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**Batman Inferno**

Fumes of exhaust—from that of dejected civilians and neglected modes of transport—assaulted the nose of a traveler awaiting the promised Guide by the bus stop which had brought the traveler thus far. The hum of electricity, stemming from the lofty streetlight some twenty-five feet tall, brought a thrill of unease to the lone patron of the bench.

The identity of the figure, greatly obscured by the long brim of a fedora pulled low and a large ambiguous trench coat, was as genderless and impartial as the night itself. Yet for sake of practicality, the traveler will be referred to as male despite his unisex appearance.

This traveler, adrift from civilization yet highlighted by his isolation under the harsh glare of the streetlight, retained his aloof visage nevermind the rumors of his destination. He did not fear the decaying streets of Hell for his Guide was a legend of justice, of triumph, and would not fail him.

The traveler shifted, withdrawing a gloved hand from the depths of his coat's pockets in order to check the time—

The shrill squeak of a bat caught the traveler off guard, drawing his eyes away from the nondescript watch.

He watched the creature from the shadow of his large fedora as its knobby claws scraped against the metal of the streetlight, tangling its wings with the inky night.

It was midnight.

"You're early…"

The traveler did not betray his surprise, if indeed he felt any, as the gravelly voice of his Guide sounded just behind his ear.

Instead, the traveler stood, allowing the creased fabric of his trench coat to relax.

He did not speak.

Perhaps the traveler was evaluating his Guide, mentally comparing the garish rumors with the mysterious man, half clothed in shadows, before him or perhaps he simply had nothing to say.

Yet his Guide did not take offense.

"Are you sure you want to be here…in this city….even knowing—_especially_ knowing—all that you do?"

The traveler gave a curt nod.

The Guide exhaled, as if resigning himself to the task demanded.

"They will not harm you; I will not allow it…but I cannot protect you from what you will witness."

A rustle of polyester based fabric sounded as the traveler made a noncommittal motion with his shoulders; a shrug of disinterest or a shift of unease, the Guide could not decide which his ward had replied with but it did not matter for he had already chosen his path.

The Guide stepped out from the shadows allowing light to envelope his previously enshrouded form, outlining the definitive structure of muscle underneath a suit of armor. The charcoal based bodysuit darkened into absolute shadow as strong legs were sheathed within thick boots and capable arms were enveloped in long, pointed gauntlets.

Encircling his waist, the famed utility belt was filled with numerous gadgets that had often proved essential in the Dark Knight's time as vigilante. A ragged cape descended from broad shoulders, assisting the night with the task of concealing the masked defender within the darkness.

Lastly a strong jaw, perhaps the only shade of colour upon his person, stood out from a darkened yet armored cowl which protected his skull while giving attention to the pointed ears protruding from the top—ears which combined with the matte symbol upon his chest confirmed to the identity of the Guide known to all of Gotham City as The Batman.

In the distance flying toward then encircling the duo, a crow cawed; its jarring voice sounded all too similar to a haunting laughter.

The masked crusader frowned.

"Welcome to Gotham; we should get going."

The unlikely duo then turned from the bus stop, stepping out of the pool of light and into the great belly of garish Gotham.


	3. Chapter 2: Sloth

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

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The night was chilled; tendrils of breath filled the air between the Dark Knight and his ward. They walked in silence, experiencing the perils of the rotting city with each distant holler and crash. A taint of human despair was apparent in the grating metal and graphitized walls.

Even the echoing scuff of the traveler's shoes upon the wet, cracked sidewalk held a tone of menace in between towering edifices of decaying brick. Misery was pronounced in the presence of its city-dwellers; scattered trash, tattered life, and trashcan fires lined each block of filth, exposing its nature for what it was: hopeless.

The traveler remembered the words of a hero who remarked upon the fallen city.

"_I'm not particularly fond of Gotham. It's like someone built a nightmare out of metal and stone."_

If the man of steel himself referred to this city as a cesspool of horrendous proportions, Gotham was indeed a forsaken metropolis deserving of its title of Hell.

So consumed in his internal musings, the traveler was taken off guard when his Guide, Batman, abruptly stopped.

The traveler's hidden eyes scanned the shadows; the temperature dropped several degrees.

"Around the corner is the beginning of our journey, a limbo of sorts. Within the underworld I do not possess the same power as I did Above. We are all shades here; existent yet detached from our previous roles."

The traveler did not reply; he had already known as much.

The Dark Knight did not pause before turning the corner and leading the traveler to their first destination: Robinson Park.

If Gotham was Hell then Robinson Park was Eden.

Lush trees, out of season yet undeniably splendid, flourished from within the red bricked walls encasing the park from the dingy streets outside. A break in the brickwork pronounced the entrance while the arching iron-wrought sign overgrown with ivy pronounced its name.

A sleek-feathered crow landed gracefully atop the woven metal spelling out the park's namesake. Its black eyes watched the two men with an eerie intensity; it called out once then was silent.

Shaking the presence of an odd crow from his mind the traveler trained his eye on the shadowed passageway noting the soft glow of lights in the distance.

Yet upon entering the enticing haven, the traveler deflated visibly; his pulse had slowed and his tense shoulders slumped down in a haze of tranquility.

Here the grass acted as a lavish carpet, growing past traditional lengths and trailing off attractively toward a glen of flowers. Even the gravel path of tawny grit was almost lost amid the bountiful flora which seemed to reign over everything. Light—surely hidden by a tree's boughs—illuminated the park in soft tones.

A gentle breeze wove its flirtatious fingers under the fedora of the traveler ruffling the hidden hair before sliding down to caress the nape of his neck. Also travelling on the enthralling zephyr was an alluring aroma, no doubt wafting from some obscure flower both heady like syrup and sweet like honey.

The traveler swayed forward, drawn in by the intoxicating scent.

Yet the masked vigilante was undeterred and strode forth purposefully, his silent footsteps falling on mossy roots, fresh blooms, and waving grass with no hesitation.

The stark contrast between the dark, imposing figure of Batman and the colourful paradise surrounding them verged on comical and grounded the traveler long enough for him to notice a slight tremble in the earth as if the growth around them was shivering in anticipation.

"Stop! You're hurting my babies!"

A distressed voice followed by an equally distressed woman—or dryad—filled the unseasonably warm air.

"Ivy…" Batman growled, falling into a defensive stance on impulse.

Slightly confounded by the turn of events, the traveler merely watched as the Eve of the Eden strode toward the vigilante.

"You have no right to trespass in _my_ paradise."

No matter the indignation of her words, the traveler was spellbound by her appearance.

Was it possibly for such lush hair to hold so rich a shade of auburn? Or for her eyes to possess a hue previously thought to reside in only moss?

What of her skin, unblemished and luscious; complimented not marred by the pale tone of olive? Even the coils of ivy encircling her arm and leg, a section of her bare stomach, and a portion of her fair face provided an exotic accent to the stunning woman clothed only in frayed peasant's shirt dyed red to match her slender underwear.

After regaining himself, Batman explained to the traveler exactly _what_ the creature before them both was, "This is Poison Ivy, the former Dr. Pamela Isley who turned to a life of Eco-terrorism after numerous experiments which mutated her physiology; she's more plant than human."

"Oh Batman…" the flowered temptress drawled throatily, "I'm so much _more_ than that. I am Mother Nature herself; Nature incarnate."

The traveler's mouth went dry at her lustrous appearance; mild caution flared briefly but was soon overshadowed by her captivating gaze which was directed at him.

"Oh…? And what do we have here? A lost traveler perhaps?" she strode forward, her lithe steps becoming a tantalizing aspect on its own, "A _suitor_?"

Once more the traveler was drawn forward as if a puppet's string was drawn between his body and the marionette's handle—in her hand.

"Enough Ivy," the gruff voice of Batman cut through the lusty haze the traveler was caught in.

Yet the mysterious dryad merely shifted her weight, jutting out a curvaceous hip as she rolled her neck slightly to better face the Dark Knight; perhaps it was a trick of his mind but the traveler could have sworn her hair was curling and uncurling absentmindedly.

"Now, now Batman, you take _all_ the fun out of everything."

The atmosphere tensed.

"Perhaps you would like to show my ward the _fun_ you've had with all the others?"

A sinful smile spread across her lovely face, "Of course…This way, _gentlemen._"

Muddled by the quickly changing events the traveler followed the menacing figure of Gotham's protector as they were both led by the ever sensual Poison Ivy.

Yet it wasn't long before the sweet glen of flora gave way to a twisted jungle of exotic plants belonging to humid rainforests. Amid the flutter of colossal leaves and the bright splashes of Heliconias growing along the bases of outlandish Liana trees industrious to the Amazon, muffled voices seemed to reverberate.

Was that a whimper—No, it was mere the whish of two leaves brushing against each other.

Was that a shoe?—No, look at the enormous Rafflesia flower, its vibrant red colour was spotted with snowy droplets and its petals stretched over three feet wide.

"This is far enough," Batman interjected just as Ivy ducked under a drapery of hanging moss.

"Oh…?" her voice echoed from within the towering forest—large trees so dense the traveler was cast in darkness.

There was a melodramatic sigh which somehow seemed vulgar stemming from the hidden Eco-terrorist; some leaves rustled then finally the veil of moss was swept aside and a large circle of plants and persons were revealed.

"Here is _justice_; my babies can finally be protected from those evil, _evil_ people."

The traveler stepped forward, a mere foot from Batman, so as to better view the scene.

Vines suspended businessmen and businesswomen at various heights, curling painfully around each doll of flesh. Their faces were flushed; the blood vessels of their eyes had burst filling the whites with scarlet. Each breath was a labored exercise filling the air with wheezing strains.

"N-No—No—**NO!**"

The traveler's eyes swung to the pleading man, nearly identical to those hanging from above as he was dragged across the forest floor, roots latching onto his flailing limbs and pulling him toward the gaping maw of a mangrove tree near the beginning of a swamp.

His screams filled the near silent grove as streaks of blood began to splatter across the warm wood; a deep groaning, an almost mechanical grinding, resounded under the high tenor of the man's shrieks.

The tree was devouring him.

"Would you care to meet my beautiful pitcher plant? He's grown so _strong_ from the marrow of these cold, corporate fools."

While his eyes widened in horror, the traveler viewed a large green structure, pulsating as though it were a heart not a plant. The ten foot tall vegetation was speckled with purple, twisting up into a tube of sorts; the rim curved softly, invitingly, while a two foot tall leaf was elevated above that like a crest of an exotic bird.

One of the vines shot toward the pitcher plant, toting a bawling entrepreneur as well, before releasing its squirming victim into the wide tube. Almost immediately the leaf descended, acting as a stopper to the bizarre test-tube plant yet it also accidentally caught a high heel on its lip, forcing the fashionable shoe to fall to the ground dejectedly.

Imprints of delicate hands, pressing against its container with a frenzied might, appeared along the purple spattered plant yet only muffled strains of her voice could be heard.

"These people held the world in their hands; CEO's of large corporations, founders of vast franchises—and they squandered their money on _profit_ uncaring of the harm they were causing to the poor, _bleeding_ earth!" Ivy's voice grew exasperated with distress yet she calmed herself before speaking in a pointed tone, "Cushioned by their _lavish_ lifestyles they became useless and slothful; able to change the world but merely _disinclined_ to do so."

The imprint of frantic hands soon faded as the forest once more descended into silence apart from the rasping gasps of those fighting to breathe.

"I believe we've seen enough…"

Batman turned resolutely as he began retracing his steps, expecting the traveler to follow.

The traveler hesitated, lingering in the scene of vegetal viciousness yet when another vine dropped from the canopy above bearing a battered woman missing a heel, he turned knowing there was no use in witnessing the cycle of torture, a mockery of nature's renewal.

Yet as he turned, the siren eyes of Ivy implored for him to remain.

He did not.

In fact, it wasn't until both the masked vigilante of Gotham and the traveler were outside the bricked park that the traveler was able to relax his stiffened posture. On the journey back, the vines and roots teasingly darted out, threatening to latch on to either man at any moment but just as Batman had promised, they were untouched.

The chill of the night air brought relief to the traveler yet that relief quickly drained away when the mocking crow that had waited along the ivy strewn sign circled them once more before flying off, its throaty laughter chilling the traveler to the bone.

"Now we can properly begin our journey."

The traveler turned to the brooding bat-like figure who answered his unspoken question.

"We will travel from the first level to the last; you will be witness to every degree of wickedness that Gotham has to offer."

No more words were spoken; there needn't be words between the two for an agreement had already been forged the moment they entered the city.

And so they continued.


	4. Chapter 3: Lust

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

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The sharp chill of Gotham's night brought clarity to traveler's fuzzy mind yet his confusion didn't abate upon reaching the next destination—after another leeching trek through the bloodthirsty streets of the city—but rather amplified when the seemingly abandoned factory came into view.

The workplace had been used to manufacture ice-cream or other frosted treats by the sight of the giant, darkened neon sign outlining an ice-cream cone atop the broken lights that spelled out 'Snow—" before fading into obscurity.

The possibility of 'Snowman' or 'Snow-cone' as the title were too close to positively deduce but either way the purpose was the same: to produce frozen novelties.

What constituted its decline or what its present purpose entailed were both enigmatic to the traveler; however, Batman seemed untouched by such ponderings as he led the traveler across the deserted streets and straight to the factory's double-winged doors.

Yet before the duo had approached the sidewalk leading to the entrance, the crow—yes, the same one the traveler thought—was waiting perched atop the chain-link fence.

Once more its shadowy eyes dug into the pair as it cawed twice.

Batman's eyes narrowed at the sight of the grim bird yet said nothing.

When the doors opened, before either man had reached toward the handle, a large rolling gust of frigid air washed over them, seeping through the traveler's clothes and raising gooseflesh along his body.

Neither man broke stride but upon crossing the threshold—just before the doors closed—the traveler looked over his shoulder, easily finding the dark bird amid the white flush of air; not a feather was out of place nevermind the glacial flurry of air.

The traveler felt a pit of dread bloom in his stomach.

However, the sub-zero temperature of the abandoned yet adequately lit factory brought the traveler's mind back to his surroundings as he struggled to remain observant amid the chattering of his teeth and the violent shudders of his body.

Glancing at Batman who strode confidently through the dilapidated workroom, the traveler noted that the masked vigilante did not even grimace at the rapid decline of temperature.

Uncomfortable, the traveler looked away.

"Welcome Batman and friend…I had not been expecting company tonight."

A chilling voice, deep yet unnerving, resounded in the room without drawing attention to its speaker.

Yet Batman turned to the right, raising his head to better view the frozen catwalk, decorated by icicles, "The factory remains a frequent haunt of Mr. Freeze, formerly known as Victor Fries who—"

"Wouldn't it be better for the man to see for himself?"

Heavy footsteps, descending from the hidden stairs, echoed amid the frosty room; it seemed as though everything expelled its own cloud of opaque fog distorting a clear sight of the deserted room. One merely had to take a look at the looming figures—no doubt stacks of packaged ice-cream—about the room to see the haste with which it was abandoned.

Despite the publicized perils of Gotham, the traveler found himself skeptic of the next villain. Whoever chose a base of operations within an abandoned _ice-cream_ factory and donned the moniker 'Mr. Freeze' lacked a solid station within the criminal food-chain.

Yet the monster, who stepped forth, parting the hypothermic mist with ease, caused the traveler to quickly retract his previous assumption.

Glacial eyes, stabbed into the traveler's hidden gaze with a vicious precision that stole his frozen breath away. Those startling eyes would have been enough to check the hasty thoughts of the traveler but the biting humility worsened as the icy apparition continued to manifest.

First a nose, then a cheek, now his bald head; the man continued to near the duo seemingly uncaring of his ghastly white skin tinged blue. The more the man revealed, the greater hesitation the traveler felt. The imposing figure, standing at six feet tall, carried himself with self-assurance and toted along an impressive physique of sculpted muscle to give testimony to his might.

Clad in dark clothing underneath a strange semi-transparent armor, Mr. Freeze struck a frightening if not futuristic image. He also carried a glass helmet in his hand and a large, outlandish gun at his hip. The gleam of his blood-red goggles, secured around his forehead, deepened the unease the traveler felt.

Much to the traveler's dismay, Mr. Freeze placed the goggles over his eyes then the helmet over his head, completing the full-body armor.

"Now you can clearly attest to the fact that I am not simply a man among many as your Guide had intended to clarify…" his breathing was unimpeded by the transparent helmet, similarly his breath did not fog the surface which left the chilling effect of blue eyes glaring through garnet goggles unobstructed.

The ice-man was silent for a brief moment before continuing, the whisper of a sigh pulling on his words, "There are many things one learns in his existence; there is the misfortune of tragedy, the satire of prosperity, the—"

"B-Bad lu-luck—"

The stuttering, rasping words took the traveler by surprise causing his eyes to flash across the room in hopes of identifying the speaker.

However, Mr. Freeze seemed to know the exact whereabouts of the speaker for he replied while leisurely striding across the room, "Of course, I know about bad luck…that's one of the lessons that this city teaches us all, eventually."

The ice-man stopped before a shadowed figure the traveler had assumed to be a tower of boxes; yet boxes did not speak.

The air stirred from Mr. Freeze's short journey dispersed the clouding mist around the disguised speaker, allowing the traveler to see a man frozen in place; black, gnarled twists of flesh acted as fingers while the deathly lacquer spread along his hand, wrist, and the beginning of his forearm. His nose was affected, his ears as well, yet whatever was not enshrouded with death was preserved in perpetual agony by ice.

Yet the man's lips, so raw from the blistering cold, had not yet accepted its fate; that is to say the blood encrusted flesh jerked grotesquely tearing his deeply lacerated lips further as he strove to speak once more.

"You have learned the lesson as well; have you not, you foolhardy fiend?"

"Ac-Acciden…Accident," the man's eyes were brimming with such agony, the traveler's stomach twisted into knots.

Mr. Freeze's eyebrows furrowed in mock-sympathy, "You would like to think so, wouldn't you?"

Suddenly a generator of some sort activated, brining life to the large, industrial sized and ice-encrusted fans along the ceiling.

The abrupt churning of metal blades cleared away the majority of the icy fog yet began circulating the already sub-zero air, dropping the temperature to an extremity whose misery echoed in the large room, revealing a vast chamber of frozen civilians.

Men and women alike, some dressed lavishly others scantily, all were frozen in some degree of cryogenic paralysis.

The ice-man gestured about, "All of you: adulterers, manipulators, vindictive and lusty offenders who made sport of love—Would you all claim to be a victim of fate? Are you all not criminal yet innocent?"

A plethora of disgruntled whines, pleading tones of misery, filled the room like a sickening chorus yet Mr. Freeze remained hardened toward their disposition.

"No…You could never understand true love—What it means to a man who had nothing," he clenched his fist aggressively before slamming it into the first offender; casting shards of frozen carnage across the room, "and what it _takes_ from that man."

The ice-man walked away from the partially broken man, leaving two jagged stumps of ice-encrusted limbs behind.

"I loved a woman once…Nora. My beautiful sweet Nora," Mr. Freeze trailed off, his voice losing its icy edge.

The traveler was entrapped by the pain apparent within the imposing man's voice and so he did not see Batman stiffen as Mr. Freeze journeyed to the recess of the room, marked off by a frosted curtain.

Hastily the frigid man tore the curtain away, uncaring of the crunching ice underneath his feet. He then placed a gloved hand atop the large glass container; his head bowed before the blonde woman entombed within the cryogenic fluid with only test tubes, a white gown, and a snowflake necklace to keep her company.

"My Nora…"

The traveler, deeply disturbed by the raw display before him began to retreat—refusing to turn his back and flee but unable to stay rooted to the spot.

His Guide noticed his not so subtle retreat and took mercy on the traveler; they both departed from the iced chamber filled with tortured souls that mirrored the state of Victor Fries' heart.

Yet even as the frozen doors opened and closed automatically and the glacial cold was replaced with the soft chill of the autumn night, the traveler was unable to shake the last words the ice-man had spoken: _One day I will find your cure and we will be together again._

Anxious, the traveler scanned the streets for a distraction yet was met with the uncanny crow once more; the crow was silent then without warning it spread its wings and flew past the two men and into the night once more.

Batman's low voice brought the traveler's attention back to the present, "It seems it's willing to journey with us once more even as we descend to the second level."

The traveler turned to better face the Dark Knight, unsure if the man was referencing the crow and if so—what significance did a bird hold for the vigilante?

Yet he did not give further explanation but merely continued to tread across the street—with his long gait and silent stride—in the general direction the crow had flown.

The traveler followed.


	5. Chapter 4: Greed

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

* * *

They had not walked for long—seemingly mirroring the length of the journey before yet in another direction—when the masked vigilante turned into a decrypt alley.

Focusing his mind on the approaching episode, the traveler followed; his previous encounters had weakened his impartial composition while simultaneously whetting his hunger to experience more.

Yet this dark alley did not provide the traveler with a thrill one would expect to receive but rather the echoing wails of agony in between the sharp crack of a whip produced an interest within the man. An interest that was only deepened as Batman let out a near silent sigh of agitation before entering the scene himself.

"Selina…"

"Mmm…Batman, just my luck," the seductive purr belonged to the nimble woman seeping out of the shadows with a proud strut.

There was a twinkling within those green eyes before the crack of a whip teasingly—or _threateningly_—cut into the dirtied ground an inch away from Batman's approaching foot, leaving a glistening line of blood in its wake.

"Also that's _Catwoman_ to you."

The Dark Knight was unmoved, "Enough of your games, Selina—"

She disappeared into the shadows only to reappear behind him, brushing herself against his back suggestively, "Oh? But don't you enjoy playing with your puss—"

"What is it this time? A gem? An idol? Yet what are you doing here? 'Taking care' of the competition?"

A throaty hum reverberated from the leather-clad woman about six inches shorter than Batman as she circled around him completely, "I'm afraid these days I'm all about _charity_—Isn't that right, handsome?"

Flaunting her remarkable dexterity, she cast out her whip into the shadowed alley yet when the coiled leather bit into its target it didn't release it allowing the cat-burglar to reel in a fleshy man, dripping sweat and if the red lines crisscrossing along his clothes were any indication blood.

"He's quite the charmer—Well, if his money is the one talking," she gave out a short chuckle before trailing a gloved finger—baring the glint of a silvered claw—down his cheek, uncaring as the man took ragged breaths when his cheek split open.

Untouched by his plight she sighed theatrically, "Yet you're always wrapped up in some tour-guide gimmick—You know," she grabbed the brutalized man's plump cheeks, "it _reeally_ makes a girl feel unwanted."

She pouted, somehow managing to look innocent in a leather suit and cowl complete with cat ears.

"Is the infamous cat-burglar now reduced to backstreet muggings?" Batman's gravelly tone once more challenged the master-thief.

She scoffed, releasing the man to the open arms of the cement with another crack of her whip.

"My world is all just shades of grey, Batman. That's why you'll never really understand me…" she began her mesmerizing gait back toward the Dark Knight, "_That_ man had plenty of dough for the rest of us but decided to keep it all in his little, grubby hands…" she attempted to lean in once more but he shoved her back, uncaring as she stumbled and huffed.

"He was blinded by his greed—I was merely showing him the error of his ways…"

The Dark Knight roughly walked passed her, "We're leaving."

Put out but maintaining her catty behavior she called out, "It's only what's fair!"

As the traveler also passed the remarkable feline, cringing away from her hiss, he caught up with Batman in time to hear him grumble, "Funny that she should say that…"

Before either man could continue, the sharp crack of a whip echoed with renewed fury causing its victim to once more holler for mercy.

Neither man turned back.

Yet once the alley deposited the duo into the street behind a familiar brick-encased, overgrown park the traveler turned to Batman expectantly.

Feeling the pressing confusion of his ward, Batman clarified, "It was necessary to make a slight detour to visit Mr. Freeze but now we can continue our journey through Gotham. Just past Robinson Park lies the City Hall, the last stop on this level."

As if to give validity to his statement, the crow which had preceded them now circled the pair cawing three times before flying off—presumably in the direction of City Hall.

Needing no further encouragement, the men continued on their way once more braving the streets of Gotham until they stood before the City Hall; the imposing marbled building had probably stood for ideals of justice for decades yet now it possessed a duality of grandeur and paucity.

The left half of the building retained its pristine glory, polished statues and gold accents. However, the right side of the building seemed sullied; the blackened statues were disfigured, the dirtied steps were hazardous due to its chipped surface.

Neither man spoke of the obvious base of the next villain; they merely ascended the left portion of the semi-grand stairwell.

As before, the dual doors, marked appropriately, opened without the touch of either man yet the traveler took no time to ponder this reoccurrence, he merely accepted it and entered the unknown villain's lair.

Inside the pattern was the same: the left wing of the spacious chamber was filled with rich history present in shining court benches, crème molding, and elaborate murals depicting a rare sight of Gotham's scenic virtues yet the right wing possessed an air of destruction in gouged tiles, torn paintings, and splintered pews. In fact, upon comparing the two the stark difference between white and black was only too apparent.

"Batman, you're just in time for the sentencing!" A smooth voice, full of confidence drew attention to the obvious designer of the city hall. His entire appearance was divided between two extremes: on one side a head of brown hair, a strong jaw, and a clear blue eye yet on the other a shock of white curls, a horribly scarred face, and a permanently reddened eye. Even his outfit, a mismatched pinstripe suit alternating between grey and black drew attention to the man's splitting appearance.

The Dark Knight growled, forgetting himself momentarily as he shot forward, "This isn't justice, Harvey!"

The disturbing man replied yet his voice had changed, growing harsher, **"Hmph, you've got a better chance of justice in this town by, say, **_**flipping a coin**_**, then putting yourself at the mercy of this or any other court."**

To punctuate his statement he gestured widely, drawing attention to the huddle of men and women in the jury box and a sole man in the witness stand—all were clothed in judge robes or business suits.

"**By the way, the name's Two-Face."**

Suddenly Two-Face produced a coin and began to flip it in the air only to catch it and repeat the process. For whatever reason, the men and women cried out in dismay at the action.

"**These men and women made promises about cleaning up this city…but I'm the only one _taking action_."**

The masked vigilante recovered himself enough to attempt to rationalize the other man's actions, "You're _wrong_, Harvey. You still have a _choice_ that coin is nothing but a crutch."

The divided man shook his head and replied with the smooth voice from before, "How much _good_ can they do in a city where the law is a _joke_? They all suffer from greed…" he closed his eyes, his face scrunching as if he suffered from an intense headache but he soon recovered and shifted to the other voice, **"Watch what happens next. And ask yourself whether you've ever seen **_**justice**_** like this."**

Two-Face walked to the witness stand, where the cowering man shook his head frantically as if some terrible fate awaited him. Yet Two-Face merely flipped the panicked man his prized coin.

The anxiety-ridden man miraculously caught the small object yet hesitated, "W-W-What?"

Two-Face aggressively interrupted him, **"Flip the damn coin."**

The man complied.

There was a blur of a pinstriped sleeve as Two-Face placed his hand over the man's open palm, **"Call it."**

The man paused, opening his mouth but delaying his reply.

"**Call it, damn it!"**

"Heads. _Heads_, okay?" the man replied, clearing his throat painfully.

Two-Face turned to the man, leaving only his unmarred profile to face the vigilante and his ward.

He smiled.

"Good call."

Easily the costumed criminal, withdrew a gun and shot him through the head.

Blood splattered against the wall of the witness stand, shrieks echoed from the jury box, yet Batman was unfazed.

Two-Face lowered his head, a flash of pain appeared on his good featured side before he turned—revealing his other half, **"I may be crazy, but I didn't throw acid in my **_**own**_** face…"**

He walked toward the pair, unfortunate witnesses to the corrupt court ruling.

"**This city wants **_**real justice**_**, right?"** he lifted his hands dramatically, **"Well, I'm here to **_**deliver**_**. No corruption. No greed. Simply **_**justice.**_**"**

So overwhelmed in his courtroom theatrics, the man turned around as though he intended to break into a lengthy statement yet he paused, turning his head partially to view the duo from his reddened eye, **"Shall we move on to the electric chair?"**

Batman was silent for a moment before turning and walking out, the traveler close on his heel.

The harsh cackling of Two-Face rebounded off the vaulted ceiling, following the two as they departed from the city hall not even pausing as the doors automatically opened.

No matter the change of roles, the traveler was able to note the strains of the vigilante's former life resurfacing as though with each level of Gotham and each reintroduction of a villain, more and more of the Dark Knight's past returned to haunt him.


	6. Chapter 5: Gluttony

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

* * *

Upon departing the corrupt city hall, the traveler had expected the unnerving crow to continue its game of cat and mouse but he was surprised to find the autumn air colder yet strangely void of the sombre bird.

If Batman had noticed the traveler's interest in either his past or the missing crow, he did not mention it but rather continued leading the traveler past the partially grand stairs of the city hall and into the street.

They had not yet turned away from the city hall when his guide stopped in the middle of the street.

"We will be entering the fourth level which will require us to descend momentarily."

The traveler looked about discretely from under his fedora, noticing the absence of a subway tunnel let alone any sign of transportation—oddly enough the traveler was unable to recall any vehicles upon entering Gotham itself from the bus stop.

It wasn't until Batman had pried the heavy cover off the manhole they were all but standing on that the traveler understood their next mode of travel and promptly pushed the absence of vehicles from his mind.

Such a feat was not difficult as a putrid stench rose up from the wet, grimy tunnel leading into the sewers. The passageway was dark yet the traveler was able to make out the slickened ladder descending into the bowels of Gotham.

When his Guide swiftly entered the claustrophobic, rancid space, the traveler knew he would be expected to follow.

Gingerly the traveler lowered himself into the gaping space, feeling through his gloves the scabbed texture of the metal ladder.

Time stretched on endlessly as the tiny skylight grew fainter and fainter until the traveler was barely able to see a spec of light above. It was then he heard a quiet grunt and a splash below and knew his Guide had reached the end.

Feeling his way down the last few rungs, the traveler lifted a soiled glove to his fedora and jumped down the rest of the way. While his landing was louder than the Dark Knight's, he felt greater achievement in maintaining his grip on his hat.

Yet the soft glow of emotion was quickly snuffed out by a pained moan.

The traveler sharply turned his head to view what appeared to be a huddled form not too far off—or so he thought in the dim lighting.

When his silent Guide did not comment on the suffering woman but merely strode past her, the traveler felt his curiosity rise.

The feeling did not leave him as more and more crouched over figures were sprawled out in the dank sewers—some along the thin catwalk while others were miserably wedged between a groove of cement and metal, constantly overwhelmed by the rushing water in the canal.

Soon the bodies began to pile up—Bodies, the traveler dubbed them for the cacophony of wails and broken sobs seemed to be the only sign of life in the dirtied figures.

Their whining and shuddering cries seemed to envelope the canal until all the traveler could see, all he could hear, all he could _feel_ was the utter agony around him.

If the Dark Knight was affected, he gave no sign.

Yet the anguish of those within the tunnels did not subside but rather _intensified_ to the point the traveler wished only to place his soiled gloves atop his chilled ears if it would so much as muffle the horrid orchestra of misery.

So immersed in the plight of those around him, the traveler was caught off guard when his Guide abruptly stopped and took a turn in the twisting and curving tunnels. Yet this new path did not lead to another isle of tortured souls but rather opened up to a brightly lit platform displaying a line of shuddering, sweating, sobbing souls waiting for something—or someone?

Who was that hulking man—or beast?—who stood at 6'6", hairless yet unsettlingly burly?

"Bane…" Batman spoke in a brief greeting then continued in a slightly choppy explanation, "True identity unknown; occupation: mercenary; motive—"

"Batman…" a strange, automated voice both cultured and raw seemed to stem from the massive expanse of man uncontained by his combative clothing. As if to validate the traveler's thoughts, the mercenary turned partially—a hand still resting atop a skeletal woman's shoulder—revealing narrowed golden eyes and a strange contraption across his hairless head.

The mask covered his mouth with a set of silver tubes interlinking through the thick material. The device in question wrapped around his head from three points: one on each cheek and the third following his nose and receding into the back. Yet what purpose did it serve?

"I see you have brought company…Did you wish to view the punishment of these gluttonous people—suspended in a constant state of _want_ by toxic drugs?"

A spark of a challenge flared in the masked vigilante's eye, "Drugs like the _venom_ you too craved?"

An uneasy silence filled the room, even those waiting in line were mute—in fact, the only source of noise originated from the stacks of discarded bodies within the canals.

Suddenly the silence was shattered with the bone-splitting **crack** of the woman's spine across Bane's knee.

Unwillingly the traveler violently flinched as though the blow had been directed at him.

"No…I am past my vice—I am now Gotham's reckoning."

Easily—as if the woman's corpse was a ragdoll—Bane tossed her singlehandedly atop a steadily growing pile of twitching limbs.

The traveler's stomach twisted sharply as he was forced to retract his earlier assumption that the woman had _died_ from the brutal snapping of her spine; she, like the rest of the wailing souls buried in the sewers of Gotham, was alive and tortured every second.

He shuddered as he noticed her face, skin legions and scratches stretched grotesquely as her jaw was suspended in a choked scream. Tears fell on either side of her face, receding into her reedy hair as she struggled to right herself from her upside-down position atop the pile of writhing bodies—

He looked away.

It took a moment for the traveler to register his Guide's footsteps walking away yet before he could make to follow the masked mercenary spoke once more, knowing his voice would travel, "It has been quite dull; no one has recovered from my punishment as quickly as _you_, Dark Knight"

Batman stopped; his cape and cowl concealed his body language but a faint sound—perhaps that of grinding teeth or a clenched glove—betrayed him.

Before the traveler could blink his Guide had begun walking again, forcing him to jog in order to catch up.

At the end of the platform rested yet another ladder which the traveler was all too eager to ascend—anything to rid the echoing of the **snap** his ears picked up every few seconds.

Yet when the duo had resurfaced into the smog-choked air of Gotham, the traveler's first thoughts were of the chilling crow which was now perched atop a sign of a nearby building.

Four caws filled the air.

A gust of air swept through the deserted street, swinging the sign by its hinges.

Without hesitating Batman strode to the red, metal door of the building unaffected as the door swung open inviting the duo inside.

A chill ran down the traveler's spine yet he too entered the strange building titled: _Mad Tea Party._

If the sewers painted a grimy mural of wasted life in the traveler's mind then the large room that lied beyond the red door depicted a masterpiece of unrivaled livery.

The room was enshrouded with bright colours of tapestries, overlapping haphazardly across the expanse of the walls and even the ceiling. Yet once the shock of colours—crimson, azure, ochre, jade—wore off, the presence of large oak tables crowed by an even greater variety of tea pots captivated the traveler.

Tall or squat, one spout or three, flora pattern or stripes, each porcelain pot huffed and puffed large volumes of steam which obscured most the details apart from the table set below.

Yet the table was just as entrancing with the elaborate spread of tea cups—mismatched as well—and tea saucers, pots of sugar, plates of butter, jars of jam, and spoons to spare.

In fact, the traveler was so overwhelmed by the upbeat colours and lively tableware he was startled as he noted a red, shaking hand reaching for a tea cup—the chinaware evenly cleaved down the middle forcing the piping hot tea to stain the fine tablecloth beneath.

Before the traveler could closer inspect the startling appearance of the hand, a slightly squeaky voice called out.

"You're late, Batman. Late, late, late."

Amid the clearing steam, a short figure wearing a large hat—bearing a price tag _10/6—_began to materialize; a shock of red curls, a comically large yellow bow around his neck, a long green coat falling to the ground.

"Mad Hatter, formerly Jervis Tetch, a neuroscientist for Wayne Enterprises, was obsessed with Lewis Carroll's work—primarily 'Alice in Wonderland'—and soon became deluded; he believes himself to be the _real_ Mad Hatter."

A viscous scowl contorted the once pleasant features of the villain, "I _am_ the Hatter!" yet his wide smile quickly returned, "Come now, stay awhile and have some tea! After all, we're _all_ mad here…"

By now the steam had dissipated enough for the majority of the room to come into focus, bringing the blank yet horribly burned faces of teenagers and children into view. Each soul was seated in an odd assortment of chairs and stools, but none seemed aware of their surroundings—perhaps the earphones occupying each ear was the source of their disinterest, nevermind the violent burns across their mouths and arms.

One detached youth, probably fifteen, mechanically handled his tea saucer, dunked it twice, then began chewing on it absentmindedly not showing the slightest alarm as his teeth scraped against the chinaware, then upon breaking it with a sharp **crunch,** the blood that began to fill his mouth and drip down his chin in steady drops: splat, splat, splat.

"Come now, my dears—Once more!"

If the girls and boys had heard they gave no sign of it; they remained aloof, even as the tea pots began to emit a scale of whistles—almost in the strains of a song…

"A~ very, very unbirthday to me—" the Mad Hatter began singing.

_"To who?"_ the youths echoed tonelessly.

"To me!" the squat villain exclaimed.

_"Oh, you…"_ they intoned back.

"A very, very unbirthday to _you_—"

_"Who me?"_

"Yes, you!"

_"Oh, me…"_

"And on this day, today, let's get another cup of tea! A very~, very~ unbirthday to I an' you!"

Batman's low tenor brought the traveler's attention away from the morbid display in front of him, "As an expert with technology, he has developed numerous devices to control the minds of others—Not to mention, he's an excellent hypnotist."

"Ah ah ah—It's very rude to speak without being invited! I'll say it's rude—It's very, _very _rude indeed!" the hatter's humor rapidly switched from joyful to livid, his cheeks reddening comically.

Yet just as quickly his rage abated, "Oh you must have cup of tea! Ah yes, the tea—the tea! You must have a cup of tea—Join all these gluttonous minds, obsessed with their music and phones when they should be lost in the wonderful world of Wonderland like these wonderful 'Alice's and me!"

Before Batman could reply the Mad Hatter started up another chorus of the 'Unbirthday Song' yet this time all the lifeless participants, soaked in tea and scalded by its heat, stood and waved their tea cups about wildly—throwing the piping hot liquid all over each other.

"A very, very unbirthday—," the outlandish villain once more led the brainwashed group.

_"To me?"_ they monotonously crooned.

"To _you_! A very, very unbirthday—"

"_To me._"

"For you!"

The Dark Knight turned and began to leave the morbidly songful group; the traveler was only too eager to follow.

"A very, very unbirthday~ to you!"

The door closed with a bang.


	7. Chapter 6: Envy

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

* * *

The duo was once more met with the chilled streets of Gotham; black cement glistening with freshly shed rain. The dark clouds oppressively loomed over Gotham enshrouding the night with a deep melancholy that settled in the traveler's bones. He had accepted this tour knowing well he would be witness to the tortures of hell—the various villains and viciousness present in their lairs—but he had yet to reconcile with the horrors he witnessed.

Yet as they continued down the street, crossing paths with more of the signs of the destitute and decadent that inhabited this hell, the traveler knew he had much more to witness before the night was through.

However, when the brightly lit sign to the chrome building titled _"Iceberg Longue"_ came into view, the traveler knew he had not yet steadied his frayed nerves.

Of course, that eerie crow, perched along the eave of the large structure, did nothing to ease his mind.

It cawed five times; the men entered the luxurious building via the automatic doors.

The internal structure could not be more aptly named.

The obvious theme of ice flooded the 12,800ft restaurant; fine tables filled the wide expanse of the establishment while a dance floor, styled as a ship's deck, provided the upper levels filled with private booths a chance to gaze down upon graceful dancers. Yet the centerpiece, an incredible iceberg sculpture floating in a large pool of water—complete with live penguins and seals—remained the greatest source of awe.

No matter the lively atmosphere full of elegant men and women dressed in finery only the elite are privy to, the traveler felt something to be amiss.

If this was truly another lair of a villain—where was the villain?

As if reading his mind, the masked vigilante began his introduction, "This is the Penguin's place of business—The 'man' in question is the former Oswald Cobblepot, heir to one of the elitist families in Gotham. While the restaurant seems untouched, don't be fooled."

"Actually, this is all just a bad dream. You're at home, in bed, heavily sedated, resting comfortably, dying from the carcinogens you personally spewed in a lifetime of profiteering. Tragic irony or poetic justice, you tell me."

The slightly nasally voice of the villain drew the traveler's attention to the long nosed, 5'2" suited man toting along a closed umbrella as he waddled toward the duo.

Batman merely narrowed his eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends of The Penguin's Nest," the Penguin raised his voice to speak to the restaurant's inhabitants, "I regret to announce the outbreak of a sudden epidemic: envy. I suggest while you can, to run for your lives—" a nervous laughter broke out as the guests looked amongst themselves uncertainly causing the Penguin to grumble under his breath, "I suppose what they say is true: society is to blame. High society."

"Don't listen to him," one of the well-dressed men with a million dollar smile joked in a stage whisper, "the fat ol' bird just has his feathers ruffled."

His jest caused the room to erupt in gossip; the traveler caught snatches of the hushed conversation—some claiming the Penguin's appearance was such a shame he should have stayed in the sewers while others remarked upon his failed attempt to win the election for Gotham's mayor.

The stout man huffed with outrage, his pointed nose (which resembled a beak) flaring with indignation at every word.

It was then that the Penguin's eyes turned to slits as he walked forward smoothly; his destination the outspoken man's table.

Yet the blonde-haired wonder with the megawatt smile didn't stop there. In fact, he seemed to relish in the attention he received—and crave the jealous glances directed at his pristine appearance, "Ah yes, I was just thinking…There's not a lot of reflective surfaces down in the sewer, huh?"

The glib man chuckled once more—the Penguin chuckled too before replying.

"Still...could be worse. My nose could be gushing blood."  
They both laughed again—the room joined in.

Yet the blonde seemed to think of the seemingly innocent words, "Your nose could be... What do you mean by tha—"

Suddenly the Penguin lunged for the man, his sharp pointed teeth easily tearing into his face until he ripped away a good portion of the man's nose. Spitting out the offending flesh that had been sneering down on him for too long, the Penguin watched with cold eyes as the bloody man hollered and fell to the floor while the room stood in shock.

"My dear guests, we stand on a great threshold! It's okay to be scared; many of you won't be coming back. Thanks to Batman, the time has come to punish **all **God's children! Why should we be biased? Male and female! Hell, the sexes are equal with their erogenous zones blown sky high! Forward march! The liberation of Gotham has begun!"

The confused customers began to panic, some rising to hasten to the doors only to realize they were chained to the tables. Next they began to plead for mercy.

While chaos erupted in the grand restaurant, the Penguin turned back to Batman and the traveler, "Look around you. This horrible bunch of psychopaths are all begging to join up with me, but unfortunately for them, I only take the best and time after time as their memories are wiped clean—they show me that they're _far_ from the best."

The Penguin then turned to the panicked crowd and raised his voice, spreading his short arms, "What you hide, I discoverer. What you slander, I expose. Get the picture?" to add emphasis he fluidly wielded the umbrella, opening it to reveal a hypnotic pattern.

"What is that supposed to do? Hypnotize me?" a woman asked shrilly from a table neighboring the now bloodied man who continued to whimper in pain.

The Penguin merely sneered, "No, just give you a splitting headache."

She huffed, crossing her arms, "Well, it's not working."

He sighed before jerking the umbrella which caused a shot to be fired—killing the woman instantly.

"Do none of you see it?! You're all just hypnotized; mindless sheep who are ruled by your envy!"

The room was too overcome with panic to properly respond to his point.

Disgusted, the Penguin threw his umbrella down and shook his head. Then, as if there was some unseen signal, the room was once more restored to its original setting: elegant men and women conversing pleasantly with one another.

While the Penguin began his work again, the duo left the Iceberg Longue knowing the pain of witnessing such vapid Gothamites exasperating over 'tragedy' for all of eternity was more of a torture to the Penguin then a lesson to the rest.


	8. Chapter 7: Pride

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

* * *

Throughout their journey, the traveler had come to expect the crow's random appearance and disappearance and so he was unamused when the bird circled the two men, cawing six times into the night air before flying down the street—toward the edge of the island.

Also expectant of the route and therefore unsurprised as they followed the crow—once more releasing a chilling laughter—, the traveler found himself more disturbed by the quickly nearing water than the upcoming destination.

While Gotham itself was an immense contraption of islands, the traveler was certain his tour wouldn't involve such extensive travel. And so it was with mixed feelings that the traveler viewed their endpoint: a bricked building that bore no sign but possessed a green door with a black question mark which opened all the same.

No matter the cluttered space of the interior, computers and wires creating a claustrophobic maze of technology, the traveler's mind was already ahead of their current position wondering if the edge of the island meant the end of his tour.

Yet an amused voice drew his attention to the destination on the sixth level of Gotham.

"Riddle me this:

If you throw me from the window,  
I will leave a grieving wife.  
Bring me back, but in the door, and  
You'll see someone giving life!  
What am I?"

A chorus of groaning filled the room.

"Please, _PLEASE_ no more!"

Curiosity ridding the traveler of his own silent inquires, he found himself leaning forward, almost breaching the last bend in the impromptu maze; however, Batman's warning slowed him.

"This level belongs to the Riddler, formerly Edward Nigma, scientist for Wayne Enterprises. The Riddler has a strange conditioned reflex. He can never make an important move in his life without leaving a riddle to explain it."

"I hear~ you, Batman!" the cheery voice called out, summoning the pair around the bend and toward the unexpected—

Or rather toward the unexpected assortment of adults, stationed at school desks in various poses of pain and exhaustion. Yet perhaps even stranger than the compilation of Gothamites was the wildly dressed villain who was currently beaming at Batman.

Decked out in a green body suit littered with black question marks, a similarly designed mask and cane, the red-headed man gestured widely with his arms, "At last the world's greatest detective has arrived—Finally a worthy brain almost as genius as _mine!_"

Before Batman could reply the Riddler sprouted off into another riddle, "What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?"

More moans escaped the miserable men and women trapped in a pained haze of confusion.

"I didn't earn a PHD in Literature to suffer through this!" a woman wailed before collapsing her head into her arms, as if she could cushion her throbbing head from the frequent assault of riddles.

"Oh but you asked for it—" the Riddler beamed at her as he hopped atop her desk, startling her as he leaned closer to her face, "—being a bad teach and all on account of being so filled with pride that you _crushed_ the potential of countless children who were _different_," the energetic redhead leaped off her desk only to lean against it dramatically, "Nevermind that—Here's an easy one for you: What weighs six ounces, sits in a tree, and is very dangerous?"

Her hidden face shook as she replied back, voice cracking, "_I. __**Don't.**__ Know_!"

The Riddler spun around and tsked her, "Come on, teach! Even a Freshman could solve that!"

The woman began to sob, her tired shoulders collapsing under the weight of suffering an eternity of obscure riddles.

Yet the Riddler merely rolled his eyes and looked over at the Dark Knight exasperatedly, "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

The vigilante was silent causing the redhead to scoff and stride toward the pair, green cane twirling in his nimble hands, "One more for the road, eh Batman? Riddle me this: when is a Jetstream like a daffodil?"

Yet Batman merely turned away, leading the traveler out into the night once more.


	9. Chapter 8: Wrath

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

* * *

Although the night was waning, the traveler suspected the tour was not yet over; somehow the punishment of eternal riddles did not seem like the lowest level of Hell.

"There is one more level to visit: Arkham Asylum."

The traveler paused, allowing the implications of the dreaded institute to wash over him yet before he could fully register what such a level within _that_ place would entail, Batman continued, "It is necessary for us to cross the bridge then once more descend into the sewers; we will not be welcome at Arkham's gate."

Gooseflesh once more broke out along the traveler's body but he merely nodded.

And so their journey continued until yet another manhole—far from the main island of Gotham—awaited them.

Under any other circumstances the traveler would feel dismay upon once more slipping into the bowels of the corrupt city yet the hostile atmosphere within the island, dominated by the blackest pits of crime within the Narrows and the centre of horror within the asylum, persuaded him with greater urgency than he would have used otherwise to once more follow the Dark Knight's path into the sewers.

No matter the reasoning for returning, the suffocating sensation of slipping into the city's slimy underground did not bode well with the traveler. The ladder within the present manhole was made of weaker metal than the one before causing the traveler to doubt each step he took on the rusted rungs.

Just as before, it took an eternity to reach the bottom but unlike before, the traveler did not feel a lift in his spirits as he heard the familiar grunt and splash marking his Guide's safe landing. Instead, he felt his stomach plummet—he remembered only too well what lied in Gotham's sewers and wasn't eager to learn what resided in _Arkham's_.

Even so, the man once more held his fedora to his head with a grimy glove and dropped down beside his Guide; there was no turning back.

It took the traveler's eyes a moment to adjust to the utter lack of light but once they did, he found himself more disoriented than before. The canal—if such a flooded waterway could be labeled such—was not lined with catwalks and railings as the other sewer but rather wooden planks seeming more like segments of a fence than a flooring, floated atop the filthy water.

Perhaps more disturbing was Batman's warning, "Within these sewers resides Killer Croc, formerly Waylon Jones first a wrestler than a member of the mob who suffered from a rare skin condition that mutated him into the beast he is today."

Rather than feel intrigue at the strange condition of the former mobster, the traveler only felt an instinctive urge to flee from the sewers yet he gave no indication of his uneasy thoughts as he dutifully followed Batman's soft footsteps along the unstable boards that seemed to teeter uncontrollably with every shift of weight.

Soon the traveler was more occupied with not falling into the gruesome water—and possibly meeting whatever resided _in_ the water—than pondering the possibility of running into the mutated beast.

However, a bloodcurdling scream belonging to a man with a deep voice echoed through the curved tunnel, "HELP ME! **PLEASE!**"

All too soon the traveler was able to view what atrocity was resonating in the enclosed space—

Scales.

Scales covered every inch of the beast's body. He may be wearing torn jean shorts but the massive bulk of muscle and plated _scales_ clearly defined the man for what he was: a monster.

What else but a 7'5" monster could tear a man apart, teeth gnashing in between the gooey strings of gore that bound the middle of the man together—the traveler could only assume the beast had eaten his way through most the torso within the few seconds that passed after the man's screaming fell into silence.

Yet perhaps more startling was the massive trough of mangled bodies, creating a chain of carnage around the beast's large platform. No matter the terrible state of the carcasses, each one began to regenerate their flesh until a new plethora of victims awaited their terrible fate yet _again_.

The traveler visibly recoiled at the sight, unknowingly falling further behind the masked vigilante as they neared the monster.

There was a clink of metal—later revealed to be large manacles, chain snapped but cuffs intact—and a flash of red eyes before the brute roared inhumanly, "Batman! Your bones will snap. Your blood will fill my belly."

Tossing aside his latest chew toy, the massive creature seemed to lurch toward the Dark Knight yet restrained himself at the last minute—thankful of the change of roles providing them both protection against the otherwise lethal beast, the traveler followed Batman's silent example and continued on his way.

Yet the beast continued.

"These murderers do not satisfy me—I will come for you!"

The traveler shuddered, tucking his trench coat around his body more tightly as he fought off the chills the deafening voice awakened.

Thankfully he noticed the ladder leading up to safety—No, not safety but something far worse, even as impossible as that seemed, than the sewers. Nothing awaiting them within the infamous asylum would provide security—After all, it was _Arkham_.

Despite the truth of his internal thoughts, the traveler followed closely on the vigilante's heels eager to be above ground once more.

Yet what the traveler did not expect was to emerge amid wiry undergrowth that clawed at his trench coat and almost snagged his fedora off his head as he surfaced. Similarly, the traveler was surprised to note the presence of the crow who simply watched the two gain their bearings with its black eyes, remaining—for once—silent.

Batman seemed to inspect the bird for a moment longer than necessary before journeying to the nearest building.

Upon looking around the traveler noted the iron wrought gates enclosing them within the asylum's compound; he quickened his pace.

Yet strangely enough, the further they walked the flighty crow maintained sped with the duo, occasionally circling back as if reassuring itself that they were following. Not once did the crow cry out.

In spite of the uncanny circumstances, Batman proceeded to approach the double winged doors of the building—The doors opened automatically, creaking horribly, yet before either man could enter the crow swooped down and flew straight into the building.

Hidden eyebrows furrowing, the traveler followed the Dark Knight into the building. Of all the horrors he had witnessed that night, the next few minutes scarred his eyes with revolting images of human extremity present in each cell they past.

Hands reaching out for relief, begging in broken streams of gibberish, others screamed and screamed without reason or restraint, yet others _were_ restrained and resigned themselves to twisting madly into the cement walls with whatever limbs were available—as if they could merge their body with the cold stone and escape their torment.

Perhaps even more curious was the reaction of those within the cells, heated glares, spiting, snarled curses, as the crow glided through the air—easily cutting through the atmosphere of those desperate and disturbed.

Rows upon rows of cells; hallways composed of enclosed rooms barred from public view yet bearing bloodied handprints about the door and gouges—presumably from fingernails—along the wall; the traveler was lost in the maze of malice.

Yet eventually the pathway led to a new wing of the institute labeled: Medical Wing.

Within the new wing, stained cement flooring giving way to dirtied white tiles, various sections of the room were converted to miniature treatment rooms separated only by torn curtains. Yet the largest expanse of the wing, in between either side of the medical rooms, rested a large mahogany desk and seated behind the desk, with all the austerity and superiority of a judge, was a man with well kept, brown hair and piercing blue eyes behind clear-rimmed glasses.

Suddenly the crow soared toward the desk cawing seven times before landing in a flurry of feathers on the floor. Yet once the feathers cleared away a woman, garbed in black with a cascade of glossy feathers falling over one shoulder like a sleeve, rose from her kneeling position.

"I've trailed them through the seven levels as you asked, Dr. Crane."

The man enthroned on his high post cleared his throat then spoke with a cold tone, "Obviously..."

The crow turned woman stiffened yet her expression was hidden from both the Guide and his ward, without a word—no doubt communicating silently with cold man—she walked to his side and remained perched on a corner his desk, now revealing a mask constructed from feathers as well.

Yet the traveler's attention was drawn to Batman as he began his introduction, "He calls himself "Scarecrow." Psychologist turned psychopath. He preys on the innocent and instills them with fear. When I chose to wear my...costume, it was to prey upon the criminals, and instill them with fear. The irony is not lost on me..."

Scarecrow raised an eyebrow, "Yet who in this place is innocent?" he rose from his desk and walked toward the pair, clasping a bundle of burlap—seeming out of place for a man in a suit, "Is it there some indicator of this 'innocence', some special _gene_? I think not. The abusers, the tormentors, they are created early on for there are all kinds of teachers, and all kinds of children.

'That realization was the _defining_ moment, you see…The object lesson that shaped the rest of my life. It was the moment I learned the two most powerful forces on earth…_fear_ and _control…_and that _anyone_ could _use_ them."

Batman growled, "You _are_ insane."

"Oh? And in turn what does that say about yourself? Gotham's Batman, is not unlike myself. Darkly introspective…brooding…clearly traumatized in early childhood—"

Batman ground his teeth, glaring at the well-dressed villain yet Scarecrow continued to speak, "And so I perfected my weapon, my defense, against those wrathful _bullies_—quite an amazing formula, really. It acts on that part of the brain that harbors the ego…that dark, primal corner where lies our baser selves…and _deepest_ fears. Then I donned a costume worthy of my weapon; hence my scarecrow mask…"

He trailed off, removing his glasses and placing them within his suit in order to slip on the mask. Once finished the result was uncanny; twisted burlap, crude stitchery, and gaping holes created a nightmarish picture.

Yet Batman was beyond humoring the talkative egoist and turned to lead the traveler out of the asylum. Neither looked back when the feathered woman let out a shrill scream; no doubt receiving the penalty for assisting a sadist.

However, upon exiting the asylum and its horrors, Batman turned to his ward, "While we have traveled through all seven levels of Gotham there is one last place we must venture to this night: the lair of the devil."


	10. Chapter 9: The Devil

**I do not own in any way, shape, or form Batman with that in mind, enjoy!**

* * *

Upon hearing their last destination—the lair of the devil—the traveler had been expecting something a bit…_more_ than the purple and green striped circus tent on a separate island.

Yet the traveler obediently followed Batman through the slightly parted flaps, curious as to what waited beyond the brightly coloured fabric.

However, the traveler was _not_ expecting a reception—and from a harlequin at that.

The woman stood at 5'7" and while almost every inch of her was covered, the skin tight bodysuit that alternated between red and black with accenting shades in diamond patterns, left little to the imagination.

"Well hi there! 'Bout time you showed up…Mista J was getting cranky—and you don't want him to do that!" her Brooklyn accent was thick but not thick enough to cover her carefree tone.

"This is Harley, Joker's sidekick and former psychiatrist—Harleen Quinzel. In her own perverse way, she loves him," Batman's finished his introduction with slight disgust—or was that regret?

"Hey! Enough of the talkin', Mista J's waitin'," Harley snapped at the two then began a sauntering walk through the next open flap of the giant tent which led to a hall of mirrors.

Yet unlike other carnivals, these mirrors only reflected different variations of a strange man with bleached skin, a Glasgow smile, and wild green hair wearing a purple suit.

Some 'reflections' revealed different eras—from a makeup-less man in a fedora and wide shoulder padded suit to another incarnation wearing a pinstripe suit and spats with neat makeup entailing a powdered face and immaculate lipstick curving from his lips onto his cheeks in a wide smile then to another version wearing a modern suit which was contrasted with sloppily dyed hair and messy makeup consisting of a white face, panda eyes, and sloppy lipstick sloping up on either cheek.

No matter where the traveler looked, a reflection of the strange man—all sinister smiles—stared back.

Glancing at Batman from under his fedora's protective brim, the traveler noticed he had grown shockingly tense as if he was bracing himself for a harsh impact—or explosion.

Finally they were at the end of the hall of mirrors yet instead of a normal tent flap a wide face, represented by those within the mirrors, made up the tent wall. In order to pass through, they would have to walk into his smile—and no matter which way the traveler thought about the situation, he couldn't shake his thoughts that they were being devoured by that sickly smiling man.

Yet the moment they passed underneath the passageway a spotlight fell upon them, blinding the traveler with its harsh glare in the otherwise darkened room.

"Welcome Bats! It's been _soo_ long since you've decided to, ah, _drop_ in."

A maniacal laughter filled the room's occupants with an uneasy feeling—except for Harley who didn't run or even _skip_ to the villain of all villains but began a sequence of elaborate flips until she finished with a giant bounding leap toward his arms.

Yet she was harshly pushed away as the green haired man, wearing the purple pinstriped suit from the hall of mirrors (spats as well), walked toward Batman with a spotlight on him as well.

The room grew tense.

In fact, every breath in the room seemed intensified by the stillness—well partial stillness due to Harley's disgruntled huff and the low wine of two, previously unnoticed, collared hyenas.

"Joker…"

The traveler half-expected an introduction to the villain but knew the intensity between the two was different than the others—darker, almost obsessive.

"What's a matter, Batsy? Have a bad day?" he chuckled darkly, "You know that's how it starts…"

Joker began to leisurely walk back to his seat, an elaborate throne at the head of a circus floor; once he was seated—or rather sprawled out—he continued, "All it takes is_one bad day_to reduce the_sanest man alive_to_ l__unacy__. __That's_how far the_world_is from where_I_am_. _Just_one bad day__. You _had a bad day once. Am I right?_ I __know_I am. I can tell. You had a_bad day_and everything_changed__. _Why else would you dress up like a flying rat?"

He burst into laughter again yet this time he was echoed by the two pet hyenas on either side of Harley who couldn't resist cracking a smile and adding a few peals of laughter herself.

Yet almost instantly, Joker's mood sobered as he lurched forward into a proper sitting position despite his hunched shoulders and hands splayed over his knees as if he was leaning forward to tell them a secret, "But, there are _some_ people," he licked his lips, "in this world who think they're _not_ like **us**. They think that they're _so_ much…more. But they're really not…" his face split into a horrific grin, "are they, Bats?"

Without warning the entire room was flooded with lights giving clarity to an audience full of maniacally smiling men and women whose faces had been grotesquely twisted into masks of morbid joy even further defined by red smears of paint(?) across their mouths and cheeks.

"Don't you see—Now they're looking on the _bright side_ of life!"

The hyenas once more howled with laughter as Joker sprang up and began his circus act.

"Now, now don't think of _leaving_ just yet—We've yet to see the main event! But first let's begin the show," his smile chilled the very blood in the traveler's veins, "Behold—the human target!"

In the right hand section of the circle, a man was strapped to a giant wheel and rolled into the center by grotesquely smiling assistants.

Joker winked toward Batman, "Watch closely—" then produced two handfuls of knives with a flourish reserved for magicians and madmen.

Without any regard for the man struggling to free himself despite the frozen smile across his face, Joker threw numerous knives, some missing and others hitting the target as intended. Yet somehow the hollers of the man were drowned out by the crowd who cheered and cheered, wishing the gushing blood would last just a _bit_ longer.

When the man was wheeled away, Joker simply raised his hands, accepting the applause with grace as he bowed, his tail coats flapping with his rapid movements.

"Now for our next side-show! Come out Harls and so the world what you can do!"

Sometime during the exit of the Human Target, a wooden board painted Joker's signature colours of purple and green had been placed in the center with three holes and three smiling heads within each hole.

"Of course, Mista J! It'd be my pleasure…" now the harlequin sauntered toward the twisted game board, although this time she carried a massive hammer—red and black—that must have been as heavy as herself, over her shoulder.

Prompted by her love and the cheering crowd, Harley began to play a ghastly yet comical game of 'Whack-A-Mole', finding her dodgy targets with speed and strength that did not seem proportionate with her stature.

Only when each 'mole' had been smashed beyond its use, did the game conclude; Harley gave a bow to the audience then made an equally showy exit, blowing kisses and waving enthusiastically.

Various acts followed including the dunk-tank—filled with viscous Joker Fish, of course—, trapeze preformed blindfolded by members of the audience, live ventriloquism via fresh corpses, and for those brave of heart a chance to stick their head in the hyenas mouth (although getting it out was a bit of a challenge…), yet soon the circus had to come to a lull before the main event.

"Thank you! Thank you, all! You've been a wonderful crowd so far!" Joker engaged in his usual theatrics yet when an audience member journeyed near to hand him a bouquet and shake his hand, he met a shocking end with the ever electrifying Joker—and his deadly hand buzzer.

Amid the chaos of the closing performance and the transition of the no doubt disastrous main event, Batman and his ward were able to slip away under the tent walls. It wasn't until they were almost twenty feet away that they heard Joker's tantrum upon finding the circus to be lacking a certain Bat—the star of the night—yet they were quick to leave the mad clown to his own devices.

Once the Guide and the traveler were within the outskirts of Gotham, Batman made his closing statement, "We have completed the tour of Gotham; I trust you have acquired what you sought?"

The traveler, ever silent, nodded.

A moment passed between the two before the Dark Knight receded into the shadows leaving the traveler underneath a pool of light from a street lamp near the bus stop. Yet just as the traveler had settled himself onto the bench, the street lamp cut out. Curious, the traveler gazed toward the heavens—through the parting clouds of dawn—and saw the stars.


	11. Answers to Riddles

Answers to riddles:

Riddle 1:

"If you throw me from the window,  
I will leave a grieving wife.  
Bring me back, but in the door, and  
You'll see someone giving life!  
What am I?"

The letter "n".

Window becomes Widow

Door becomes Donor

Riddle 2:

"What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?"

The letter 'e'

E-ternity, tim-E, spac-E, E-nd, rac-E

Riddle 3:

"What weighs six ounces, sits in a tree, and is very dangerous?"

A sparrow with a machine gun.

Riddle 4:

"When is a Jetstream like a daffodil?"

This riddle was never answered.


End file.
